smells like a family to me

Summary:

Tony is wrong, of course. Having this baby thing around? It is pure hell.

Notes:

Thank you all so much for reading the first installment, and this one as well! I really love this series, personally, and I hope to milk it for all that it's worth. :)

That being said, I definitely want to keep you guys interested and entertained. So, if you have any ideas -- any at all! -- feel free to shoot me a message over on my tumblr (thesaintoflostcauses). If I really, really like the plot bunny your idea provides, I'll write something set in this universe, just for you!

Again, thank you all so much. The fact that so many people read it means a lot to me.

Work Text:

Tony is wrong, of course. Having this baby thing around? It is pure hell. Steve puts the little creature to bed at around seven o'clock on the first night, and Tony thinks that maybe the stupid thing won't cry. It shouldn't after all the crap it's been given -- hell, the thing might still be in a trashcan if it weren't for Saint Steve Rogers. So Tony expects some gratitude, even if the thing isn't old enough to know what that is, let alone know what it means. Steve reckons that the little carpet muncher can't be older than maybe a year or so, and he's still utterly repulsed that someone could leave a living, breathing thing in a trashcan, but whatever.

Steve puts the thing to bed, and Tony thinks, hey, maybe I can drag my boyfriend to bed for sex!

But no. No, of course not, because the second Steve closes the door to the bedroom that they're keeping the baby in, the tyrant starts screaming its head off. Tony cringes and instantly knows that sex is so far out of the picture that might as well be in another country or something.

Mr. Rogers puts on his serious business face -- the one that Tony refers to as the Captain America face, though he'll later recognize it as his Daddy Face -- and casts Tony an apologetic look before vanishing into the bedroom to console the child.

It doesn't stop there though. The baby is -always- crying, nonstop, at all times of the day. No matter how much Steve coddles the boy, feeds him, plays with him, sings to him, the baby still cries. He stops maybe for five hours at night when he's sleeping, and Tony and Steve are both so worn out that they literally have no desire to do anything but sleep themselves.

For five days and three hours, the baby does literally nothing but cry, shriek, and whine. But on that fifth day, because Tony is sick and tired of hearing the damn thing scream, he goes out and buys a pacifier. And then he shoves it into the baby's mouth and -- lo' and behold -- the thing goes quiet. Complete, total, unadulterated silence. After five days of screaming it is literally the sweetest sound, music to his ears, and god why hadn't they thought of this before? Steve comes home from debriefing that day and looks shocked to walk into a house that is quiet. When he sees the pacifier in the kid's mouth, he laughs.

"Why didn't we think of that sooner?"

Tony shrugs and looks at the baby that's on the ground, blinking up at the two adults with wide, innocent baby blue eyes. "Don't know, don't care. Just so long as he stays quiet." Steve chuckles and leans down to give Tony a kiss.

"We have to name him eventually, you know." Steve says, and Tony sighs, yanking down for another kiss before the man can pull away. Names? That can wait. Tony's sure there'll be plenty of time for that.